


one resurrected fish, one homecoming, one stunning disaster

by hailingstars



Series: irondad one-shots [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: College, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Homesickness, Loneliness, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Endgame, basically this story is just Tony parenting his kids, except Morgan's goldfish, funeral for a goldfish, in the sense that everyone is alive, it's kind of a mess but im posting it anyway, may he rest in peace, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 03:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19040032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailingstars/pseuds/hailingstars
Summary: Peter is homesick at college, because his asshole room mate and feeling like he doesn't belong but it's almost time for summer, and he goes home right in time for a family tragedy, the death of Morgan Stark's beloved goldfish.





	one resurrected fish, one homecoming, one stunning disaster

**Author's Note:**

> this story was gonna be an irondad bingo for my homesick square, but it turned into so many other things, I just decided to post it as a random one-shot 
> 
> so please enjoy!

Peter stared up at his ceiling and counted down the hours he had left until he could go home. Well, one of his homes. The one with Tony and Morgan and Pepper, by the lake. He checked his phone. It was only 9:37 PM.

Through the walls of his dorm and stretching across campus, Peter could hear the parties from his bed. The end of the spring semester celebrations was all loud music, laughing, swearing, drunk people yelling at each other, drunk people trying to sing. It all mixed together into an annoying sound, the sound of what Peter wasn’t, because he wasn’t invited and that was sort of the problem.

No one was invited.

Invited was a high school term. 

People just showed up to college parties, unannounced, or at least, that’s what happened according to his roommate, who was always invited in the sense that he knew people, that he belonged here at MIT and Peter didn’t. Belonged like Tony must’ve belonged, with his last name and with his money and his ability to become an expert on something overnight by simply reading a book.

He thought about Tony and wondered if he would be disappointed if he knew what he was doing, or rather, what he wasn’t doing. That he wasn’t celebrating the end of his spring semester with the rest of his class. That he was in bed before 10 PM, watching the seconds and minutes tick away, because college wasn’t everything Tony told him it would be. 

Or at least, it wasn’t for Peter.

He missed Ned, who was across the country attending Caltech, and he missed MJ, who was just a short train ride into the city. She was attending NYC, but despite her still being close, their schedules didn’t line up often. He rarely saw her. 

He missed being Spider-Man.

He missed Queens and Midtown. 

He missed _Flash_. 

He missed when bullies were straight forward and harmless, instead of the kind of passive aggressive that crept under his skin and lived there, when bullies went their own separate way at the end of day, instead of sleeping in the bed on the other side of the room. 

“They shouldn’t give away scholarships,” Bradley the third, his roommate, had told him, on the day they first met. “It isn’t fair. To you, or for us. People like you just don’t fit in places like this.” 

Bradley the third had taken one look at Peter and had decided he was there strictly because he had multiple scholarships. It wasn’t true. Peter declined the scholarships he won, so people who weren’t fortunate enough to have a billionaire pay for their education could have a chance to go somewhere they didn’t belong, too. 

Peter hadn’t said anything in response. It wouldn’t have mattered. According Bradley, attending MIT was just about being smart. It was about having pedigree, about having money. 

He hadn’t believed it then, but by now, on his final night of his freshman year, he believed it. Bradley was right. If the wasn’t, then Peter would have found a way to fit in, would’ve found friends who were more than just acquaintances or classmates.

Once or twice, Peter thought about calling Tony. Maybe he could pull some strings and get him into a solo room, one without Bradley and his continuous obnoxious and loud opinions, but that would’ve brought questions Peter wasn’t ready to answer.

He didn’t want to admit it to Tony that he hated it here, that he just wanted to come home, to Queens or to the lake house. He didn’t want to disappoint him, or to bother him with his problems that were so small compared to the ones Tony dealt with as Iron Man.

Maybe someday, he’d look back and these problems would feel as small as they actually were, but they didn’t in that moment, as he stared up at his ceiling and listened to the parties go on without him.

A spider crawled across the ceiling, and it was the closest thing he had to a star, so he wished on it, instead. He wished the night away, for morning to come fast, to be home at the lake house, where him and May spent their summers, the same way Bradley the third and his friends retreated to the south of France or the Bahamas. 

The spider heard him. Once he was done with his wishing, his phone buzzed, and Tony’s face flashed across the screen. He brought the phone to his ear, then answered. 

“Peter,” Tony’s voice came out immediate, clear, tense. Wild possibilities flew through Peter’s mind, about what could be wrong, what could make Tony’s voice sound that way, but he still wasn’t prepared for what he told him. “Morgan’s goldfish died.”

Peter let out a breath of relief. 

“Again? What are you feeding those things?” asked Peter, then thought better of it. “ _Are_ you feeding those things?” 

“Of course we feed them,” snapped Tony. He was always a little edgy after fish deaths. He didn’t want Morgan to know, didn’t want to see or hear her cry. “They’re goldfish. They don’t live very long.”

Peter frowned. That wasn’t completely true. At least not one hundred percent of the time, but he didn’t bother telling that to Tony.

“I need you to drive down early and bring a replacement.” 

“How early?” 

“Morgan is usually up by seven, so, uh, like now.”

“Tony,” said Peter. He was already sitting up, already ready and happy for his excuse to ditch his dorm early and not say goodbye to Bradley the third. “It’s almost 10 PM. Pet stores are closed.”

“What’s a locked door to a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,” said Tony. “Just crawl in there and – “

“-you want me to rob a pet store?”

“If it makes you feel better, you can leave some cash on the counter on your way out,” said Tony. There was some noise in the background, and Tony muttered something about DUM-E before continuing, “I’ve gotta go put out fires. See you later, kid. I’m gonna send you a picture of him, so you can find one that matches.”

“Wait- “ 

But he was met only with silence. Tony had already hung up. 

With a sigh, Peter dropped his arm and let his phone fall from his ear and looked around his small room. His bags were already packed, by the door, ready to go. As he left, as he walked through the halls of his dormitory and thought about the disaster that was his Freshman year, he thought about the summer that stretched in front of him, how it hadn’t really started yet, but still, somehow, he already knew it wouldn’t be long enough. 

* 

Hours later, and into the night, Peter was home.

He stood with Tony at the end of the dock on his lake. With a small, weary sigh, Tony dipped a fish bowl into the water, freeing the dead fish into the lake. Flushing him down the toilet, Tony had explained to him earlier, wasn’t an option. He found that idea unkind, like they were sending the fish into the afterlife in the sewers, but if they released him into the lake, he’d go to fish heaven.

They watched as the golden fish bobbed lifelessly on top of the water, until Tony’s hand found Peter’s shoulder and they turned to face each other instead.

“It’s good to see you, Peter,” he told him. “I’m glad you’re home.” 

It was the first non-dead fish related sentence spoken to him all evening. 

“It’s gonna be a great summer,” continued Tony. “You know Pep said you’d probably want to spend it with all your new college buddies, now I can finally say I was right about something.”

Peter shifted his feet, fidgeting under Tony’s grip. He wondered if he would be just as happy if he knew Peter hadn’t made the choice. There were no new friends to choose over his family. He opened his mouth, ready to spill, then closed it again. 

Tony didn’t need to know. It wasn’t a big deal.

“Yeah, I’m – I’m glad to be home, too,” said Peter. 

They hugged as the dead fish drifted further into the lake, the started their way back into the house, where they still had more fish business to take care of.

Tony scrubbed the fish bowl out at the kitchen sink. Peter dumped the pebbles back in, and very carefully stuck the grey, sparking castle in the middle, only for Tony to shoo him out of the way and repositioned it, slightly off center.

“She’ll notice,” Tony told him.

Next came the water, and last, was the fish. 

Peter held up the plastic bag and looked at the new fish, the replacement. 

It’d taken awhile to steal him from the pet store. Peter, with his Spidey mask on, broke the lock on the front door and simply walked in. That was the easy part. The tank that held the goldfish was huge, and once he found one that looked like a suitable replacement, it took him several minutes to catch him with the net.

He’d been soaking wet as he left a twenty-dollar bill by their cash register, then exited the pet store. Peter spent the entire drive to Tony’s worrying the plastic bag with the fish inside would come untied, and he’d have a flopping, breathless fish on the floorboard of his car, among fast food wrappers and empty water bottles. 

But that hadn’t happened. The fish was fine, and after Peter untied the bag and emptied him into his new home, he swam around fast, alert, alive. 

Satisfied, they took the fishbowl back into Morgan’s bedroom, where Tony sat it on her desk, then quietly slipped back out into the hallway, unheard and unseen, like some kind of tooth fairy for goldfish.

Tony checked his watch. “Almost time to get up. Wanna get settled into your room? Catch some sleep? I’m gonna go whip up some breakfast.” 

Tony’s hand was on his back, and it made him realize how much he missed that, too. He wasn’t ready to lose that just for some sleep. Peter was too content to sleep.   

“I’m not tired. I’ll help you with breakfast.” 

“Passing up the opportunity for extra sleep?” asked Tony, with a raised eyebrow. He clapped him on his back, then pulled his arm around him, as they headed towards the kitchen. “You must’ve really missed me. That’s good, though, you can tell me about your first year at MIT. I want to hear everything.” 

Peter lied. 

He made up a fantasy version of his freshman year, one he thought that would make Tony proud, one where he wasn’t miserable and lonely and dreaming of being here, at home, with people who loved him. In his stories acquaintances became friends. Bradley the third didn’t exist. Peter didn’t get kicked out of class for being twenty minutes late and miss a day of notes. 

It was a fantasy, one he spun as they made enough food for a small army, and one Peter wasn’t sure Tony completely bought. He didn’t say anything, though, just listened.

“This is a lot of food,” said Peter, looking at the omelets, the pancakes and waffles, sliced fruit, and eggs, made in three different ways. “Even for my appetite, this is a lot of food.” 

“Don’t get used to it,” said Tony. He wore an apron and wagged a mixing spoon at him. “We don’t normally do this, but we’re celebrating. One resurrected fish, and your homecoming.”

As if on cue, at the mention of the goldfish, a high-pitched scream came from Morgan’s bedroom. By the time Tony and Peter arrived at her door, she’d stopped screaming. She was standing on her bed, pointing at the fish bowl. 

“An imposter ate Bruce!”

“What do you mean, honey,” said Tony. “That’s him.” 

“No it isn’t!”

Tony looked at Morgan, who wore both a serious face and tears in her tears, then back at the fish. It was swimming happily, zigzagging in and out of the castle that didn’t belong to him, completely clueless that he was an imposter fish, and everyone knew it. Peter wished he was lucky enough to have that kind of blissful ignorance.

Peter watched Tony’s face crumble into something like regret, like shame. He gave a sigh and crossed the room to sit with her on the bed. He pulled her into his lap, and his eyes went soft as he looked at her.

“Listen Morguna,” said Tony. “I’m really sorry, but last night, Bruce went to heaven.”

Peter had no idea if kids her age knew what heaven meant or what it implied, but Morgan must have understood. Her face scrunched up, her eyes got wide, watery, as she started back up at Tony. 

“So Peter went to the store on his way home from school and got another fish to take care of.”

“I don’t want some other fish,” said Morgan. “I want Bruce.”

“I know,” said Tony. He held her closer, wrapped her up in his arms and squeezed her with a hug. 

Morgan sniffed, wiped both her tears and her snot on Tony’s shirt, then looked up at him. “I didn’t tell him goodbye.” 

“We can have a funeral,” said Tony. “And you can say goodbye.” 

She nodded. The tears in her eyes were mostly gone, and it was replaced by something else. Something that reminded Peter of Pepper.

“You shouldn’t have tried to trick me.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” said Tony. “I didn’t want you to be sad.” 

“I am sad,” said Morgan. “But it’s okay to be sad sometimes, it means you had something to love, dad, Dr. Seuss said so.” 

“Forgive me?”

Morgan nodded, then shrugged out of Tony’s arms. She jumped off her bed, walked over to Peter and hugged his legs. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” she told him. She looked up. “Thanks for the new fish, but I hate him. He’s an imposter.”

A lie. One that didn’t belong. Just like Peter. Just like his stories.

“That’s okay,” said Peter. He picked her up, returned the hug, and together, they all went down to breakfast, to that mountain of food that waited for them.   

*

On the day they said goodbye to Bruce the fish, everyone wore suits and dresses and ties and jackets. Peter didn’t have any of those at the lake house, so his black suit was brand new. Tony ordered it just for this occasion, just like ordered a catering company to grill their lunch. 

Peter stood between Rhodey and Happy on the dock, and in front of the real Bruce, who mourned the fish who was named after him. At the end of the dock, Morgan had one parent on each side of her as she dropped the grey, sparkling castle into the lake, to give her beloved pet’s home back. 

He imagined it sunk, slowly, to the bottom, with all the dirt and all the rocks, with all the bones of the other dead fish Morgan hadn’t realized were replaced when she wasn’t looking.

“Bye Bruce,” said Morgan, as she straightened out, stood up. “You were a really good friend.” She tugged on Tony’s suit. “Dad… aren’t you going to say a few words, about Bruce?”

Tony paused. “Uh, well, he was… He was a really great fish. He swam… really well, and now he’s swimming in deeper waters.” 

Morgan seemed satisfied with his speech, she grabbed her dad’s hand, and they all broke for lunch. 

Peter made a plate, and found a lonely picnic table, under a tree and near the lake. He didn’t think he’d be seen by anyone, but just minutes later, Tony found him.

“What does it mean if my seven-year-old is more emotionally mature than me?” he asked, as he sat down, and sat so close their shoulders bumped. 

“That you’re doing a good job?” 

For a split second, Tony looked the way he usually did right before he was about to claim he had allergies, but then the lines in his face creased. He frowned. Concern replaced the fake allergies claim. “Alright, what’s going on?” 

Peter just shrugged, and stuff his mouth with his food, so he wouldn’t have to answer.

“First you want to help me cook instead of sleeping, one of your favorite activities,” said Tony. “Then I give you the perfect opportunity for sass and you hit me with sweet?”

Peter kept chewing his food, and Tony put his hand against his forehead. 

“No fever melting your brain,” said Tony. “So, what’s the problem?”

He swallowed his food and was ready to cling onto his excuse that this wasn’t a big deal, that his problems were actually really small when factoring in the universe, but the thing was, it was sort of hard to pretend any problem was too small sitting in the middle of an extravagant funeral Tony planned out for a dead goldfish. 

“I was thinking,” said Peter. He looked around, made sure nobody was coming. “Maybe I don’t go back to MIT next year. Maybe I’ll go to Caltech, with Ned.”

Tony didn’t say anything. He just stared, but Peter knew what he was thinking. Caltech was too far away, and more than that, it wasn’t Tony’s alma mater, or even a school they had discussed when they sat down and talked about colleges.

It was quiet. Wind blew through the tree branches above them. A duck flew in and landed on the lake. 

“It’s just… I don’t really – I just don’t belong at MIT.” 

“What? Of course you do,” said Tony. The disbelief in his voice was overpowering, and comforting. Tony pushed on his shoulder. “You’re one of the smartest people I know. What’s this really about?”

Peter repeated it a second time, but this time, he added in everything Bradley the third said, that it wasn’t just about being smart. It was about money and pedigree and class. Things Peter didn’t have or particularly want. 

“You’re letting some punk get in your head,” said Tony. “Not everyone at MIT is like that. Listen, Peter, it’s just your freshman year. Everyone feels that way.”

“You didn’t.” 

“Kid, I’d barely hit puberty for my first year, you think I fit in with everyone?” asked Tony. “Next semester, it’ll change. You just have to find your honey bear.” 

“My what?”

“Your Rhodey. Someone who gets into trouble with you, and when he doesn’t, he’s at least there with the bail money to get you out of trouble.” Tony patted him on the shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Peter offered him a smile and diverted his eyes back to his food. Their conversation stopped once Rhodey and the real Bruce came and sat down at their table. That was something Peter could appreciate about Tony. He kept private things private, and for it was worth, did make him feel better, even if it was just from knowing he didn’t have to pretend to be okay anymore, didn’t have to lie. 

*

Summer ended fast, just like Peter knew it would. 

He stood in his empty dorm bags in hand, and sighed. He wanted to try getting a single, wanted to avoid getting paired up with someone as annoying as Bradley the third, but Tony had talked him out of it. He was insistent. Somehow, he’d guaranteed his new roommate would be better, that they’d get along.

It’d made Peter suspicious, and he had every right to be. Tony was a fixer. He’d fix what he could, but sometimes Peter feared his solutions.

With a sigh, he crossed the room and put his bags down, unzipped them, started the process of getting unpacked. He wasn’t at it long before he looked up and saw someone at his door. Someone with bags, who took one step inside, and stared at Peter and the mess of clothes surrounding him. 

“So,” he said. “You’re Spider-Man.” 

“What?” Peter shook his head. “No – I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You know Tony Stark,” he told him. “There’s this video on YouTube from a pet store’s surveillance camera of Spider-Man stealing a goldfish. For Morgan, right?” He pointed to down towards Peter’s shoes. “And your mask is hanging out of your bag.” 

Peter looked down, saw he was right and stuffed it back down, under his clothes, while he walked further into the room and sat down on the other, empty bed. 

“How did you know I know Tony?” asked Peter. 

“I’m Harley,” he told him.

“Oh.” 

They stared at each other. It was the first time Peter had met him, but it wasn’t his first time hearing about him. Tony had mentioned him a few times and had tried to get them met in the past. It never worked out. Schedules never lined up. When they visited the lake house, it was never at the same time. 

Now that he thought about it, Tony had been bringing him up more and more the closer summer came to end. Stupid. Peter had been stupid to not see this one coming.

“I’m guessing Tony arranged this,” said Peter. “Us being roommates.” 

“Probably,” said Harley. “He’s old and retired, he has nothing better to do than meddle in our lives.” He leaned back on the bed, and it creaked under him. “He’s kind of an asshole about it sometimes, though.” 

Peter nodded his agreement. It was true. He was a fixer, a meddler, but it went unspoken between the two of them that usually his fixes turned out to be okay. Chaotic. Destructive, but in the end, a beautiful mess. He wondered if that’s what this new friendship would be, a stunning disaster, when another figure darkened their doorway. 

“Hey Pete,” Bradley the third had one hand on the door frame, the other in the pocket of his khaki shorts. “I didn’t expect to see you this year. Decided to give it another go? Brave. Good for you.” His eyes fell on Harley. “I’m Bradley Chambers, the third. Who are you?” 

“Harley Keener, the only.” It was said with narrow, calculating eyes, that stared Bradley down. 

Silence fell, settled, and forced Bradley to make his exit, grumbling something about finding his new room.

Once he was gone, Harley looked back at Peter. “Where I’m from, we shoot assholes like that with potato guns.” 

Peter laughed. That place sounded nice, sounded, in a way, like Queens.   

“We’d probably need something more sophisticated here,” said Peter. 

“We could make something,” said Harley, with a shrug. “Tony says you’re not bad in the workshop.”

Peter looked around their dorm room. It was small, but it wasn’t too small. With the right equipment, maybe Peter would actually use the credit card Tony made him carry around, they could turn the corner into a mini workshop, one that could create sophisticated weapons meant to prank, meant just for fun, well at least fun for the two of them.

He didn’t have to wonder anymore. Peter knew. This would be a chaotic, destructive, stunning disaster.


End file.
